


The Masks We Hide Behind

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Fratt Week 2020 [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Fratt Week 2020, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Protective Frank Castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24388930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Maybe Frank would understand. After all, they both existed in their own personal Hells.
Relationships: Frank Castle & Matt Murdock
Series: Fratt Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759633
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73
Collections: Fratt Week





	The Masks We Hide Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fratt Week day 2 and the prompt: Suit.

“So, what’s with the suit?”

Matt grimaced as he slid the mask off his head, listened to the sound of Frank’s rapidly beating heart echoing on the other side of the slide, acting as his bedroom door. He was seated on the couch, feet kicked up obnoxiously on the table, beer bottle hanging loosely in his grip.

Frank had already been here when Matt finally got home. He had hoped to get some rest and nurse his wounds, only to hear Frank and realize it wouldn’t be that simple. Still, Matt didn’t have the heart to kick him out, too afraid of where he might end up, what people may tempt him to take up his gun again.

“Red.”

“What?” he grunted.

“The suit-”

A hiss slipped between Matt’s clenched teeth as he peeled the suit away from his body. He was in a worse state then he realized, possibly even a cracked rib with his luck.

“Matt, you alright?”

He heard Frank’s weight shift, could sense his intentions in the air and managed to clamp down on any pain that might slip into his voice, “I’m good. I’ll be out in a minute.”

A long pause before he settled in again. Matt sighed softly, wondered when his home had become something Frank could just exist in, show up and make himself comfortable without a word. Well, probably around the same time that Matt had started handing him a beer and leaving leftovers in his fridge, knowing they’d be eaten with little evidence as to who had done it except for the metallic scent clinging to the air.

Finally, the suit fell around his ankles and Matt kicked it away with disdain. He’d have to clean it up later and make sure it didn’t crease and crack, creating weak points but for the moment he was just happy to be free of the damn thing.

Next on his list was wrapping his ribs. Matt ran trembling fingers lightly over the bandages in his hand, frowning as he contemplated how to do it without twisting too much. He’d done it before, several times, out of necessity, enduring the agony with gritted teeth, alone. The thing was, he wasn’t alone anymore, and Frank had plenty of experience, not that you needed much for something so simple. Shaking his head, Matt couldn’t believe he’d actually been contemplating asking him to help, that really didn’t bode well. Tossing the bandages aside, he decided to do it later, after he’d taken a few pills and Frank was gone and unable to hear his grunts of pain.

Walking stiffly out of his bedroom, Matt sensed Frank’s eyes on him as he made his way past him and toward the kitchen. He hadn’t moved from the couch, that beer bottle sounding distinctly more hollow as the man took another swig. Getting a glass of water and shaking a few pills into his hand, Matt let the silence hang heavy between them…Frank wouldn’t let it last too long.

“So, the suit Red.”

Sighing, he swallowed them down and leaned heavily against the counter. The urge to find his glasses was strong, he had left them on the coffee table, a little too close to Frank’s feet for his liking, and he had a feeling that was calculated. Frank didn’t like when he wore them in his own home, though he couldn’t imagine why. By now it was instinct when he had company.

“What about the suit?”

“Why the devil?”

Matt frowned, “speaks for itself doesn’t it? Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Yeah whatever, except I remember you telling me that you didn’t choose that name.”

“And you said you didn’t see me running from it.”

Frank plowed on despite his words, “and you didn’t seem all that happy with the whole vigilante hero, hard on the city had going for you. So, why dig your heels in like that? You could have picked anything, could change their perception if you wanted. So, why the devil?”

His words were very matter of fact and Matt found himself actually wanting to explain to Frank why the hell he’d let himself be dressed up as the Devil, wanted to explain instead of getting defensive. Most people probably assume it was ego, him loving the attention of Hell’s Kitchen and the image cast over him but Frank had always seen through that, seen through him.

“I just…I guess it served a purpose. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is a persona and it scares the criminals out of their mind. I might not like what they associated with me but…it worked,” his explanation was stumbling and if Matt were in the court room, he’d be embarrassed.

As it was, Frank seemed equally unimpressed, “alright Red, you keep your secrets.”

That made him smile despite the dull ache in his ribs and the headache rapidly unfolding in his head. What he said was true, he meant every word, it just wasn’t all of it. Matt just was not ready to tell Frank the truth about his eyesight, about the fact that he saw fire everywhere he looked and the screams in his hears echoed from blocks away, and how his life just felt like living in his own personal form of hell. Maybe that was why he felt so attached to Hell’s Kitchen, he’d grown up here, lost his sight here, and had been stuck in Hell ever since.

From what he gathered; Frank wasn’t the religious type. He wouldn’t get it, not really and Matt didn’t blame him. Not even Foggy had been able to keep up with him and how he saw himself as Daredevil. Then again, maybe it wasn’t something that needed to be understood…maybe he didn’t have to try so hard.

“Come sit down man before you fall over. Tell me where the bandaged are and I’ll wrap you up,” Matt blinked at the sound of Frank heaving himself up from the couch.

Maybe Frank would understand if he told him. After all, he lived in his own Hell the same as him, maybe that was why Frank came here every night and why things were so easy for them. They were two men cut of the same city, the same Hell, the same sorrow.


End file.
